


five, tops

by Daydreamer5187



Series: IronDad and SpiderSon [5]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beating, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Kidnapping, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 01:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19801948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydreamer5187/pseuds/Daydreamer5187
Summary: When someone from Tony’s (or perhaps more accurately, Howard’s) past decides they want to hurt Tony Stark for their misfortunes they don’t immediately target his physical body.No, much easier to shoot for the heart and let him watch as it bleeds.





	five, tops

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’m back! I have _another_ one-shot for you that comes all the way from my tumblr. 
> 
> This one was in the form of an anon request: “can you write a one shot where tony and peter are kidnapped and tony has to watch as they torture peter” 
> 
> To which I thought, “ya sounds right up my alley, why not?”

Tony Stark was happy.

It seemed like an everyday thing, to be happy, but not to genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropists. To them, happiness was a rare commodity that only lasts as long as they deserve it. (Which is not long.)

And yet, here was Peter Parker. Tony didn't deserve him at all, and yet he stayed and smiled and joked and made Tony's life bright with his light.

Peter Parker made Tony Stark happy.

And someone else knew that.

...

They'd gone out for pizza, some hole in the wall, neighbourhood kind of place (exactly as Tony liked it), and were going to celebrate Peter's science award with sundaes afterwards.

It was a good day.

Tony wasn't wearing his tell-tale suit, rather he sported a pair of jeans, an MIT hoodie, sunglasses and a ball cap; it kept the press away.

One arm was slung comfortably over Peter's shoulders and Peter was returning the embrace. The kid beamed at him the way only Peter could and opened his mouth to no doubt tell another awful science pun when his smile dropped and morphed into pain.

"Pete, it's alright, don't worry.” Tony’s face betrayed the concern he was feeling, but his tone was calm. “Are you having an overload?" Tony rubbed reassuring circles against the teen's back.

Peter gasped, his senses going wild (but not from an overload), "no! No, it's not that Mr.Stark it's not-" Something big and powerful smashed into the two. Peter's Spidey-senses went haywire.

Tony had his gauntlet out immediately and a suit on its way, but still every receptor in his brain started to scream _danger_.

Peter was up too, but without his suit he wouldn't (Tony hoped) be able to do much.

Both their eyes scanned the area for the threat, it had been a shock wave that knocked them over, but neither could see where it came from.

“Get to the car Peter.”

Mr.Stark never called him Peter.

“No, I want to help-”

Another wave threw them off their feet.

Tony was quicker on the recovery this time, standing up and throwing Peter away from him. “ _Go_ , Peter!”

“I can help!”

“Then go to the car, _and call your friend_.” Their eyes met, Tony’s message clear as day. Peter nodded frantically and turned away from his mentor, reading to dash down the street where the Bentley was waiting with his suit.

He didn’t get very far.

Something pierced his neck and sent sparks of electricity through his veins. The boy went down, desperate snuffling kind of noises escaping his throat.

They didn’t need to subdue Tony Stark then, not when he turned around and found his kid convulsing on the ground.

He dropped to his knees on his own accord, hands splayed in surrender.

…

He woke up.

Chains, not handcuffs. Cold. Wet. Dark.

Tony was sick of this shit. Warehouse, somewhere isolated, Rhodey would find them in two hours, five, tops.

“Hi Mr.Stark…” Tony’s head jerked upwards, eyes flashing in alarm. Peter was grinning sheepishly, like he didn’t understand what kind of danger they were in (he did) or he wasn’t afraid (he was). “I’m guessing we’re not going to make sundaes.”

Despite himself, Tony laughed. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Peter was chained in a similar position as Tony was, kneeling on the damp cement with his wrists chained behind him.

“So,” Peter started, his fear seeping into his tone, “they, uh, they know about Spider-Man.”

Tony’s blood froze in his veins. “What?”

“The cuffs - I can’t break them. And when I was trying to run, they didn’t even try and fight me. They said something about how “not even my little secret” could get me out of this.”

Tony didn’t trust his voice, so all he did was nod. He needed to keep calm because Peter needed to keep calm.

That went down about as well as anything in his life.

Because not long after the billionaire had woken up the metal door opened with a screech that made both Tony and Peter wince.

 _Two hours, five at most_ , Tony reminded himself.

Peter met his eyes, giving him an almost imperceptible nod and smile. Tony tried to do the same, but his focus was pulled away from the teenager by the (he assumed) leader of whatever this was using his cane to force Tony’s head up and at him.

“I like this look on you, Stark,” he rasped, pushing the cane further into his jaw. “You don’t normally see such powerful men on their knees.”

Tony swallowed against the pressure against his throat and merely stared at the man, not giving the man the dignity of getting a response out of him.

He was in his late sixties it looked like, like he should be too old to be kidnapping inventors and their interns. Salt and pepper hair, a limp, thus the cane, nice suit, aged face, crystal blue eyes. He looked like he liked power too.

“No snarky retort? I’m disappointed, I’ve heard you’re usually a delight in these situations.” Tony held his gaze steady. “Is it because I’ve you at a disadvantage? Very well, let me introduce myself; my name is Robert Canvase, and I’m very interested in having a conversation with you Mr.Stark.”

He was aware of Peter watching the exchange with bated breath, and he thanked whoever was above that the teen was also keeping himself quiet.

“I want to hear your voice,” the man knelt down to Tony’s level, releasing his chin roughly. “I want you to give me the time of day I deserve, getting all this together for you. Tony Stark, the most powerful man in the world they say, having to answer to me.”

So that’s the kind of game this man wanted to play.

Tony didn’t say anything.

“Come now, I so acutely wanted to avoid desperate measures.” Robert stood and walked away from Tony, smirking when he felt his captive tense, the chains rattling tellingly. He was looking directly at the boy-hero now. “Will _you_ talk with me, Peter Parker?”

The boy couldn’t hide his fear the way his mentor could, Robert could all but smell it, but he’d certainly mastered Mr.Stark’s defiant stare.

“‘Spider-Man’ seems a bit generous, don’t you think? Why, you’re just a child.” Robert approached the teen like a predator playing with its food.

Peter couldn’t hold the man’s stare like Tony could, he broke eye contact and sought Tony’s reassuring gaze.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated throughout the room. Tony jerked in his chains, instinct forcing him forwards, and he bit his lip to keep himself from shouting out.

“Don’t look away from me boy.” Peter’s eyes found Robert’s again, wide and shocked. “You are very important to Mr.Stark, aren’t you?”

 _No_ , Tony thought, _no, no, no, no, no, please don’t; not because of me._

“Answer me boy!” Peter felt the second slap just as sharply as he did the first time, this time he couldn’t hold back a small grunt.

“No,” Peter whispered, his gaze dropping. “No, I’m just a kid from Queens.”

The cane struck Peter’s temple, the teen fell forward with a grunt. Tony’s chains jerked again.

“Do not lie to me, I know who you are, I know what you are, and I know that you are not ‘just’ anything.”

“He supplies Spider-Man, he has nothing to do with Peter Parker,” Peter lied.

“If I cannot have an honest conversation with Stark himself, I will _cut the truth_ from your young mouth,” he hissed. For one terrifying moment Robert was advancing on Peter before-

“You don’t need to do that,” Tony’s voice boomed through the room. “We can talk.”

Canvase smiled. “Aha! He speaks.” Peter watched the man retreat, his cheek throbbing.

He was so confused, what did this man want? Why go to all this trouble just to talk with Tony? How did he know who he was?

“Yeah, so say your bit and we can get this over with, okay?” Peter recognized that tone, Mr.Stark was being The Tony Stark right now, he only ever heard that voice when he was at a press conference or talking to a business colleague he didn’t like.

“Don’t rush me Stark, I think we all know I’ve you at more than one disadvantage.” Tony’s traitorous eyes flickered to Peter.

He quirked one eyebrow as if to say, “Proceed.”

“I was a powerful man once too, you know,” Robert started. “Your father and I knew each other, personally, if that is any indicator.”

Tony scoffed, of course this guy knew his dad.

“I had quite a substantial bank account, putting it modestly. Nothing near yours of course, but I digress… Do you know what most of my fortune hinged upon, what my trade was?”

Tony had a guess.

“Weapons.”

“Clever boy. Yes, I needed the weapons’ trade to flourish in order to flourish myself. I’m sorry to be so insensitive, but Obadiah Stane was a genius in orchestrating that kidnapping in Afghanistan. Not only would he have gotten what he wanted, the war would have raged for years to come after they killed someone like you.”

Robert paced, the rhythmic clang of the cane echoing with each step.

“And instead you came back with that _thing_ in your chest, and some noble, _foolish_ notion in your head to destroy the empire your father built you.”

“My father built me an empire that profited from murder. I built my own that reflected the legacy I wanted.”

“Ungrateful brat, you built your empire on your father’s money. I didn’t lose everything, but I certainly lost enough that I’m rather angry at you Mr.Stark.”

“Men like you should be brought down every now and again.”

“Men like me enjoy getting what they want. Regaining my fortune is no longer possible for me, so how do I get the next best thing, do you think?

“I wouldn’t know, I try not to get too far into the mind of crazies like you.”

“Then I shall make things easy for you. All I need from you, Mr.Stark, is your attention.” Tony felt a jolt of pure, palpable fear run through his veins.

 _Please,_ he wanted to say, _don’t._

“Bring my gift,” Robert commanded, casting a half glance towards one of his lackeys. Two of the men left the cells, while the other two approached the kid, _his_ kid.

“I thought we were having a conversation,” Tony called, “you were so keen before!”

Peter’s chains were unlocked but his cuffs were not. The two men hefted him up by the arms, the teen’s legs kicking wildly. Tony was just about to shout again when Peter found his proper footing and landed a kick square in one of his captor’s chests.

The man was forced back several feet, not given enough time to react before Peter was twisting around his free hand and shoulder-checking the second guard. They charged him once recovered but Peter was ready, ducking and rolling and dodging at exactly the right times, still a force to be reckoned with, even with his arms restrained. He grunted when one of the men caught him around the middle, quickly readjusting and forcing his momentum backwards,, kicking out both his legs - the partner hit the wall with the force of the blow.

Tony let himself hope that this crazy, stupid, brave boy was going to get them out of here.

Peter collapsed in the next second, convulsing like he had on the sidewalk.

The inventor’s wild eyes found Robert’s, who was watching him with sadistic glee and a remote control in his hand.

“Stop.” Tony meant to shout but it came out little more than a whisper.

Peter convulsed for a few more second and then fell still, panting. His head lulled languidly towards Tony, his eyes shining with something foolish like trust.

“Electric cuffs; do you like them Mr.Stark?”

Tony only glared.

“Ah, well, we’re back to this I see. You do enjoy being frustrating, don’t you?”

Nothing.

“Well, never mind then. But here is the crux of the matter, if I can’t regain what I lost then I can sure as Hell make sure you suffer for making me lose it.”

Peter laughed. It startled both men, because it was so abrupt but it was definitely there. He was laughing. “Yeah,” the teenager chuckled, “you’ve lost it alright.”

“Peter...” Tony admonished instinctively. Peter grinned at him, and it was so out of place in this damp, dark, cold prison they found themselves in.

“No, no, like father like son, right?” Robert began walking to where Peter was collapsed on the floor.

“Mr.Stark isn’t my father,” Peter tried defending, a ball of unease forming in his stomach. He was ignored.

Peter watched as their captor knelt next to him. “If I were to propose something to you, would you be open to it?”

Tony’s breaths began to pick up their pace, his eyes dilating in silent fear. This could go a few ways. Peter’s own gaze flickered to his mentor and then back to Robert.

“Depends on what your offer is,” he finally intoned.

“Oh it’s simple really, in a moment my colleague will walk through that door. You simply have to take what he gives you and use it on Tony Stark, and if you do, I’ll let you go, without a scratch on your young head.”

He reached for Peter’s curls, the teen jerked his head away, glaring daggers at the man in front of him.

Robert hummed before continuing, “my gift was made for you, technically, but I believe it will work on him just as well, if not better. So what do you say?”

“He’ll do it!” Tony interjected before either Peter or Robert could continue. “He’ll do it.”

“Do not speak for your son, Stark,” Robert snarled, lashing out his hand and curling them in Peter’s hair. “Give me an answer, boy. Will you accept my proposal?”

Peter spat in his face.

The door screeched open, sending a metallic taste into the air. The man was back and he was holding something, a little wooden box. Peter began panting, his danger receptors screaming at him to get away.

“Give it to me,” Robert hissed, wiping away the saliva angrily. His lackey approached, handing his boss a syringe filled with something that glittered dangerously.

Tony jerked in his chains. “What is that? What is it!” Peter’s eyes were blown to all Hell, he was scared and his senses were telling him just how dangerous it was. “No - don’t! Don’t! I’ll take it, I’ll take it!”

Robert jammed the syringe into his kid’s neck, the teenager, God he was just a teenager, gasped like all the air had been ripped from his throat.

Blood was dripping down the cuffs, but Tony didn’t care because Peter was soon clawing at the ground, floundering, looking for some kind of relief that he couldn’t provide.

“What did you do!”

Robert smirked, took his cane and swung it into Peter’s abdomen. The boy shrieked, curling in on himself and tucking his head against his chest, his features scrunched up in pain.

“It’s a neurotransmitter Stark, specifically one that amplifies his pain reception. It’s especially effective on spiders, though I’d wondered if it would be so effective on an unenhanced individual such as yourself. So, on his own he’s in pain, but add any kind of stimulus that would have registered as painful before?” He struck Peter again, the boy gave one of those awful sounding gasps again and whimpered. “It reaches a new threshold.”

Tony watched Peter’s face, wet with his tears and the beginnings of an awful sweat, the inventor didn’t realize he was crying too.

“Now sit back and relax, Stark. You’re in for a show.”

The cane cane down again, and again, and again.

Peter was _screaming_ \- absolutely howling - while Tony screamed his throat raw, begging Canvase to stop, to hurt him instead, bargaining with him while tears leaked down both father and son’s cheeks.

“Please! _Please!_ I can give you whatever you want, however much you want, it’s yours! Just-” A particular hard blow, Peter’s screaming began to turn raw and torn. “Just stop hurting him!”

Canvase paused for a moment, panting with exertion, his eyes wild and sadistic. It was like someone had pushed pause on the room, soon the only sounds were Peter’s quiet sobs (he’d tried so hard to repress them) and Robert’s breathing. Even Tony dare not make a sound for he was afraid that any noise would end this little reprieve they had.

“This is not about money,” their tormentor laughed breathlessly, “I’m not letting you so easily buy your way out of this.”

Peter was bruised, he was bleeding, and he was terrified.

Everything hurt, so much, and he knew he should try to be quiet, because it upset Mr,Stark, but everything _hurt so much._

“He’s a child,” Tony begged, “he’s just a child. At least let him rest.”

_Two hours. Five at most._

Robert didn’t say anything, he merely knelt down next to the teenager’s curled up back and slid a hand down it. Peter clinched violently, eyes snapping open and widening, finding Mr.Stark’s stare instantly.

Mr.Stark looked absolutely wrecked.

“I’m okay, Mr.Stark,” he mouthed, trying his best to form a smile through the pain. Something broke behind Tony’s eyes, but he nodded and tried to grin back.

And then another shriek tore its way through Peter’s throat, because Robert had cut him. The man displayed the pocket knife to Tony triumphantly, smirking as he let the blade rest against Peter’s skin and then began slowly slicing his way to his shoulder.

The teen let out another shriek, scrambling to get away. He couldn’t of course, Robert was holding him there with his other hand, and the boy was much too weak to resist.

“Stop it!” Tony’s heart was breaking in his chest, splintering every time Peter cried out. “Stop it! He’s a child! He doesn’t deserve this, please...”

Slice, slice, slice, slice, slice.

Peter was sure he was going to die, the pain was so awful. The worst thing was he knew it shouldn’t be, he felt so weak screaming about a little cut, he could take so much more.

Tony had evidently given up on begging, “Peter, Peter look at me. Look at me Bud, that’s it. It’s going to be okay, I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

Tony held Peter’s watery stare with all the conviction he could muster in his own.

“Oh Mr.Stark, don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Robert taunted, taking a step away from the teenager and admiring his handiwork. He gestured to one of the lackeys, who promptly gave him a flask, he took a quick sip and returned his attention to Tony. “It’s always a good idea to stay hydrated, yes?”

Tony had no more dignity, he nodded obediently.

“You a brandy or a whiskey man?”

“Whiskey,” Tony replied immediately. The longer he kept Robert talking the longer Peter had to recover.

“Pity, this is brandy.” Robert poured the liquor over Peter’s sores.

Peter’s screams reached a new height, inhuman screeches giving way to sobs.

“Mr.Stark!” Peter didn’t know why he called his mentor’s name, and he knew he’d regret it later, but in the moment he couldn’t stop. “Mr.Stark! Mr.Stark! Mr.Stark!”

Tony’s heart was shattering, his soul was dying, and he couldn’t _do anything._

“It’s okay Peter! Breathe baby, just breathe. I’m going to take care of you, I’ll take care of you, you’ve just got to hold on. You’re so brave kid, God, you’re so strong,” Tony sobbed.

Peter’s screams eventually died down into pitiful whimpers, Robert seemingly content enough to just watch that spectacle and not add anything else into it.

When it became apparent that the torture was over Peter finally lost consciousness, his whole body going lax save its sporadic twitches. Tony watched the rise and fall of his chest like it was his life-line (it was). He didn’t even notice Robert approaching him, not until the cane forced his head away from his kid.

“It’s still a good look on you Stark,” the man smirked, wiping away one of Tony’s tears with faux gentleness. “I like it even more with you well and truly _broken._ Tony Stark, the most powerful man in the world, begging me like a dog.”

“Did you get what you wanted from this,” Tony hissed, jerking his head away from the cane.

“Tenfold, Mr.Stark. Now excuse me, I have a meeting. I’ll be back later for some more fun. Do make sure his heart doesn’t stop, yes?” Robert smirked and his captive’s watery glare and exited the room with an air of aristocratic arrogance, like the cane he was standing on wasn’t covered in a teenager’s blood.

_Two hours, five at most._

“We’re going to be okay Peter.”

Somewhere outside an explosion rocked the warehouse, and then the sounds of a rain of bullets.

“We’re going to be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I sure do love me some good whump. Poor Petey though, whoops. I love you all the moon and back, thank you so much for reading this piece!
> 
> Please tell me what you thought! Also, if you liked this I could maybe post some more of my writing from tumblr? Like all creators, I’m a slut for validation :’) 
> 
> My laptop is still broke, so I can’t link anything but my tumblr handle is @day-dreamer176 if anyone is interested.


End file.
